I am lucky, I’ve an excellent butt warmer.
Haven’t had a full winter in my place as yet, moved into Betty Bewildered earlier this year in March. Adjusting to the need for warmth and the need for balance of fresh air is interesting. Last night I hung an extra blanket over the bedroom window, well the one I can open. The room is nothing but bed and a bookshelf, with no room to walk between them. Worth it though, I’ve basically built-in bookshelves and a bedside table all in one. Absolute genius.
Dad had his last round of radiation today and is going directly into hospice. The radiation has messed with his ability to verbalize well. I’d say he should learn some sign language but honestly his gestures aren’t that well controlled. He’s trapped but I’m not sure if he feels that way at the moment. Part of me hopes he doesn’t realize. But I know he’s there.
I give him a hug or back scratches, scalp skritches, as much as I can, knowing that he doesn’t probably get a lot of touch like that. No fault to anyone on that though. He’s not always been the most approachable. But I don’t want him to go without touch. It was his appreciation of back rubs and gentle gestures that made me need touch so much when I was younger. When I first got married that was an enormous issue with my then husband. He didn’t like to touch, and I needed it desperately. Now I don’t care for it unless it’s someone I know and love deeply. Or maybe I still need it as much as I was taught to by dad. It’s just too painful.
A Burd in Flight 